The True Story of the Hogwarts Pantomime Players
by the real snape
Summary: Long before Harry's time, there was a Christmas play at Hogwarts. But it all went horribly, horribly wrong. The whole sorry saga caused emotional trauma lingering to this day, and otherwise sane teachers still shudder at the thought. Here's the carefully researched True Story.
1. Chapter 1

This story was written for Hoggywartyxmas on Livejournal. The prompt was: _L_ _ong before Harry's time, there used to be a Christmas play/pageant every year at Hogwarts. It was abolished after it all went horribly, horribly wrong one year_ […]. _The whole sorry saga caused emotional trauma lingering to this day, and otherwise sane teachers still shudder at the sight of tinsel/trombones/whatever works._

This prompt on the true story behind the Hogwarts Pantomime was most intriguing. Professor Dumbledore collaborated most graciously, freely gave of his time and memories, and even allowed me to reproduce a few photographs from his private collection. The other teachers, however, were less willing. My requests met with winces, shudders, and, in the case of Professor Flitwick, gagging.

But in the end I managed to collect enough documentary evidence to piece together the events of September to December 1982.

 **Disclaimer:** The first attempt at introducing a Christmas pantomime at Hogwarts, which took place under the headship of Professor Armando Dippet, has been described in Hermione Granger's translation of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ (Flourish and Blotts 2007, annotated for Muggles by J. , Bloomsbury, 2008). I have no intention of infringing on Ms Granger's copyright. It is this performance to which Professor Dumbledore refers in his recollections.

I hope my readers, at least, will enjoy this story. Heaven knows none of the protagonists did.

 _ **Albus Dumbledore recalls**_ _[interview conducted with his portrait]_  
"While I fully understood Headmaster Dippet's decision to discontinue the Christmas Pantomime – quite a lot of parents wrote letters of complaint, the repair costs were prodigious, and it took months to get rid of the stench in the Great Hall – it had always been a regret to me that that one unfortunate occasion stopped all theatrical events at Hogwarts.

"Plays do have their own kind of magic and can be used to enlighten and educate. They also promote teamwork among the players. The benefits are endless.

"After Voldemort's first defeat, I felt that the various benefits of a play would outweigh the risks. But one can and should learn from the past. I therefore gave the matter much thought.

"The first play had been a catastrophe mainly for two reasons: to begin with, Professor Sylvanus Kettleburn had been asked to provide some of the props. As a result, an Engorgio'ed Ashwinder was brought into a wood-panelled room [see Granger/Rowling]. Of course, one could explain to dear Sylvanus that this had been a bad idea, and he would not repeat it. However, his particular mental make-up made it impossible for him to grasp the concept of _a comparable situation_ and there was no knowing what he'd come up with next.

"The first Rule for the Hogwarts Pantomime Players was therefore: under no circumstance must Professor Kettleburn be asked to make a contribution.

"The second reason our play never made it to the final curtain was the human element. The actors were students, and the hormone-fuelled hexing-frenzy when the male lead transferred his affections from one actress to another did much to worsen the already tricky situation with the exploding Ashwinder eggs. [See Granger/Rowling]

"The second Rule was therefore that only Hogwarts staff members were eligible as players or backstage contributors.

"And much depended on the director of the play. After long deliberation I chose Professor Filius Flitwick. I thought him a very talented teacher with great leadership abilities, and he has a well-known fondness for the theatre.

"So at the start of the school year I called him into my office, explained my ideas, and, like the capable fellow he is, he started his preparations at once."

 _ **From Filius Flitwick's Diary**_  
 _8 September 1982_  
A most exciting day! Albus has decided that Hogwarts is to have an annual Christmas Pantomime, and he has asked me to be the director. I can barely contain myself. I've always loved the theatre, and, as usual, Albus's ideas are festive and entertaining as well as educational.

We are to perform Muggle fairy tales. Quite a few of them are adapted to pantomimes by the Muggles themselves; if it can be done without magic, it will certainly be feasible for us. They offer great possibilities for sets, fabulous costumes (Albus waxed lyrical on ball dresses and embroidered waistcoats), and fun characters.

And it will not just familiarize our students with Muggle culture; it will make them embrace it as the festive highlight of our Christmas celebrations. A notion I wholeheartedly support.

Albus will announce his plans in tomorrow's staff meeting, and I'm to set up the first committee meeting at once. I will ask Charity to join, of course. She's the expert on all things Muggle. And I'll also ask the other Heads of House. After all, when you want something done, ask busy people.

 _ **A Letter from Charity Burbage to her sister Faith**_  
 _Hogwarts, 10 September 1982_  
Dear Faith,

I hope Papa is feeling better now – did that recipe for a Muggle grog do any good? It is so like him to go out on the moors without his muffler. I hope he was able to get some good shots of the Pixies' mating dance, and I do admire his dedication to science, but I wish he would mind his health more, if only for your sake. Dear Papa can be a tad irritable when he's feeling unwell.

I admit that the situation with Mr Gorringer is difficult. But Papa may truly not realise that 'writing the weekly shopping down' still means it must be paid at the end of the month. If only there was a second grocer in the village –I do see how uncomfortable this situation makes you. Still, dear Papa's mind is on scholarly topics only – and of course, as his loving daughters, we could not really wish him otherwise.

Your idea to try and sell some articles to less scholarly (but better-paying) papers may work out very well, though, and I've written to Pandora Aurifaber – you remember her? She was in my year, and she married Xenophilius Lovegood, the editor of _The Quibbler_. Perhaps he's interested.

But now for my own news. You may find some comfort in reading it – when you see what I have to suffer with my colleagues; you'll thank Merlin that you can live quietly at home, with just Dear Papa to look after.

Yesterday we had the meeting of the Pantomime committee, and it all went very much as I had feared. There was no willingness to embrace Muggle culture and no understanding at all for the completely different world Muggles live in. A famous Muggle writer once said that "the past is a different country, they do things differently there". The same is true for Muggle tales.

Oh, they were all in favour of greater understanding in principle. But in practice! Every single story was rejected, each time with the same argument. "Being tolerant of Muggles is all very well, but they discriminate much more than we do. Look what they say about …" Fill in the creature in question.

… werewolves (in _Little Red Riding Hood_ ), and it's not as if Horace has any particular tolerance for werewolves himself!  
… giants (in _Tom Thumb_ ), and I agree with Pomona that Hagrid is kindness personified, but I don't think he would like to have his name brought up in a discussion about giants, kind or otherwise.  
… evil witches (in _Hansel and Gretel_ ), and I know Minerva was speaking metaphorically, but only last week she said that a student was "half-baked, and it's a pity one can't just bake them properly."  
… goblins (in _Snow White_ ), and of course no-one should be made to dress up as a Muggle lawn ornament, but the whole story shows the helpful nature of goblins. Even among Muggles they are known for their skills in mining – Filius ought to feel flattered.

The final choice, however, is a lovely one. We are to perform _The Sleeping Beauty_. Do you remember how we loved that story when Mama read it to us? We liked it far, far better than any of Beedle's tales. What fun we had imagining what our prince charming would be like! I look forward to giving that pleasure to our students, and I'm happy to help write the script.

But the other scriptwriter is Minerva McGonagall. I can only hope for the best.

I'll tell you more in my next letter, dear. And as soon as I hear from Xenophilius I'll be in touch.  
Your loving sister,  
Charity

 _ **A Letter from Charity Burbage to her sister Faith**_  
 _Hogwarts, 17 September 1982_  
Dear Faith,

First the good news! Xenophilius is very interested in a short piece on Pixies, and he's offering two Galleons for it. He'll also consider further articles if the first one is received well. Dear Papa could dash it off in no time at all, so it seems as if your financial troubles will be at an end. Nothing could make me happier.

In fact, it's all that makes me happy right now. You have no idea what I suffer with _The Sleeping Beauty_. Minerva wants to rewrite it completely! With the help of Irma Pince, she has unearthed what she calls the 'original version', by one Charles Perrault. It's dreadful. There is no romantic kiss at all! The Prince just sits there and _talks_!

And can you imagine why Minerva loves such an insipid tale? Take three guesses.

No, not because watching a kiss is unsuitable for the very young – _that_ I would have understood. She wants it because in this version the prince asks for _consent_. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous? Really. A handsome, rich, dashing young man wants to kiss a girl and then she's supposed to feel insulted because he didn't ask for _consent_? Why, any girl would _leap_ at the chance of marrying a prince!

But Minerva is adamant that she won't have a play where girls get kissed "without as much as a by-your-leave", as she calls it. I told her that girls love stories like that, and surely millions of Muggle girls can't be wrong. And of course Minerva, like the stubborn Scotswoman she is, says that millions of Muggle parents may have "fed the poisonous nonsense to their girls", but she won't do it.

I pointed out that her version is plain silly. Not only is _True Love's First Kiss_ the key element of the story, but the Prince can only ask for consent if the Princess is awake, and until he kisses her, she cannot wake up.

Trust Minerva to overlook the obvious. She has left me no other option than to complain to Filius. You know I hate to be a trouble-maker, dear sister, but perhaps he can make Minerva see sense.

Meanwhile I comfort myself with the thought that you, my dear, will be able to look Mr Gorringer in the eye again, once Papa has written his little piece.

Your ever-loving sister,  
Charity

 _ **From Filius Flitwick's Diary**_  
 _20 September 1982_  
I feel as if I've played a Quidditch match with ten bludgers and no beaters. Good grief, I had no idea that being a director involved so much risk. Give me a duelling championship any day.

After Charity's visit I approached Minerva to get her side of the story. I have realised that many of my colleagues have rather strong feelings on Muggle fairy tales – the first meeting of the committee was hardly all joy – but I still found it hard to believe that Minerva "wanted to make a complete mockery of a tale that is loved and revered by millions of Muggle girls", as Charity put it.

Minerva showed me her version of the Muggle story, a very well-written one by a Frenchman. I liked it and regretted that his gentle humour would be difficult to convey in a play. Minerva, however, explained that the real problem was not that it would be hard to do justice to this excellent version, but that Charity wanted "an insipid, watered-down story that sends entirely the wrong message to girls".

When she had explained the differences between her version and Charity's, I could only agree. It is the same problem we have with our own tales: many a wizard or witch who reads Beedle's original story is shocked by the large discrepancies between his tales and the versions they heard at Mother's knee – and they blame and reject Beedle for spoiling what they call the _real_ story.

But it was quite clear that Charity was totally opposed to any changes, and I spent some time pondering the problem. In the end, I consulted Horace. Horace is what I would call highly effective, in exactly the way I want to be effective. That is to say, when Horace wants to achieve something, you don't actually see him rushing about doing things, but somehow, suddenly, after a little talk with Horace, everyone is enthusiastic about his idea and truly pleased to be working on it. That's the very thing I want.

So I acted upon Horace's instructions. It was an education to listen to him. "What you do, dear boy," he said – Horace calls everyone under fifty a 'dear boy', and it's his special magic that one doesn't feel insulted and patronised, but actually rather flattered – "what you do is invite them to a little meeting. And make sure they feel comfortable.

"You must have tea, and set out properly, too, with nice cups, comfy seats, a little table to put down their cup, or their quill, for Minerva will come prepared to take notes. Everything must be very convenient.

"Have a little treat, too. I recommend chocolate-covered ginger newts. Both Charity and Minerva love them. It's one small thing they have in common, and I've often found that subtly stressing the things people have in common is a good starting point for mediation.

"You tell them you have a problem with each of the versions. Just make sure it isn't your problem. Use something like 'Albus wouldn't allow' or 'from a director's point of view it's difficult to …'. Don't make it the personal opinion of Filius Flitwick. And then you steer them, ever so gently, to the solution you want. Make sure you know _exactly_ what you want beforehand, though!"

I did as Horace advised, and everything worked like a charm. Horace even went over the two versions with me, and together we came up with something. I told him he had quite a gift for script-writing – his ideas about the fairy godmothers were inspired!

People sometimes accuse Horace of never doing anything unless it fits his personal agenda, but I think he's much maligned. He has truly been wonderfully helpful and generous with his time.

On the day of the meeting, once the ladies were sipping their tea and nibbling their biscuits, I started by pointing out that, while both versions had a lot to recommend themselves, they both presented difficulties for a director – difficulties they might help me with.

The Perrault version, I said, has a whole sequel involving an Ogre mother-in-law who wants to eat her grandchildren. Fortunately there are no Ogres in our world, so no-one needs to feel offended, and children love the scary parts of stories, as long as they end well.

"But," I continued, "there is this one, enormous problem: to do the story justice, we need the cauldron in which the Ogre dies. And that's only realistic when there's a fire under the cauldron. Dumbledore will never allow it."

And I told them how, during the first Hogwarts pantomime, the fire from the exploding ashwinder eggs had badly burnt the great hall. "Albus will never take the chance of fire during performances again, not even with protective spellwork," I said. Mind, I think if I had offered to make the props myself, Albus would have agreed. He knows he can trust my spells. But for obvious reasons, I didn't mention this.

Minerva, who realised that as Deputy Headmistress she would be the one organising all the repairs should the Great Hall be damaged, immediately agreed. Charity, of course, wanted Perrault's story gone from the beginning.

I then pointed out that the other version, charming though it was, posed another problem: too few scenes. There's the Christening scene. Then there's a sixteen-year interval, then the Princess scratches her hand on the spindle, then there's a hundred-year pause, then the Prince hacks his way through the roses and kisses the Princess – end of story.

I then suggested we elaborate the story a little. What, for instance, would the King and Queen do when they heard the curse on their daughter?

"The King orders to burn all the spinning wheels in the country," said Charity.

"How like a man," countered Minerva. "What were people supposed to wear for sixteen years? In those days, spinning wheels were a vital necessity."

"Could he try to hide his daughter?" I suggested. "In a place without spinning wheels?"

This notion was received favourably, and after lengthy discussion I managed to steer the ladies towards the storyline Horace and I had created. They are now working on a script, and I'll have to consider the casting.

If this experience is anything to go by, I fear the worst.

 _ **A Letter from Charity Burbage to her sister Faith**_  
 _Hogwarts, 25 September 1982_  
Dear Faith,

I was so very, very sorry to hear your news. Really, dear Papa is a _bit_ unreasonable. I know that _The Quibbler_ is not a truly scholarly publication, but to refuse all collaboration! I enclose five Sickles – it's not much, but it's the best I can do right now. I would send more, but you'll understand that in my position I need to look professional at all times, and I have to spend some of my savings on clothes.

But I don't think it's a good idea to write those articles yourself, my dear. I know you've helped Papa, and it has given you some knowledge of the subject. Had Dear Mama not passed away, had you been able to go to University … but it was not to be. You have done very well as Papa's secretary, and he was kind enough to praise your assistance in some small matters of research, but we must be realistic.

It's dishonest to publish under Papa's name, and Xenophilius wouldn't pay money for _your_ scribblings. And what if Papa finds out? I really think it would be much better to try and be more economical in your purchases. What about growing some vegetables yourself? That would save money, and Dear Papa would not object were you to take up gardening. He approves of suitable out-of-door activities.

Now, you'll be eager to hear about my adventures!

Filius was very sympathetic when I told him of my difficulties with Minerva, and he has solved the problem wonderfully. He has been very clever about it: he said Professor Dumbledore would never allow the second part of the story, for it would involve an open fire on stage. That put an end to Minerva's idea!

And I must admit that he was right when he pointed out that our beloved tale offers to little scope for a long pantomime. Here is our revision, for which I've been consulted at every step.

The Christening scene will remain unchanged, only at the end the King will not decide to burn all spinning wheels. Instead, he decided to hide his daughter in a cottage in the woods, where the three good godmothers will bring her up. In order to remain hidden, they promise never to use magic.

On her sixteenth birthday the godmothers will send her out of the house to prepare some birthday surprise – I suggested a cake and a dress – and the Princess, we'll call her Aurora, will then meet the handsome Prince. (This, of course, is a little sop to Minerva. The Prince and the Princess will fall in love, and thus she has her precious _consent_. It does mean that we'll have to skip the notion of a hundred-year sleep, but Filius's alternative is even more romantic.)

Aurora then learns that she is, in fact, a Princess, and must go to the castle to be married off to some unknown prince to whom she has been betrothed since birth. This is of course no other than the Prince she has met, but she doesn't know that!

The Princess goes to the castle to obey her dear Papa, she scratches her hand on the spinning wheel after all, and she falls asleep. Her very own handsome Prince comes to give her "true love's kiss", just as we have always heard it! And it's all wonderfully romantic. You will remember how much we liked stories of thwarted love, and I'm sure girls today feel the same.

Your loving sister,  
Charity

 _ **From Filius Flitwick's Diary**_  
 _10 October 1982_  
AARRGGHH! AARRGGHH! AARRGGHH!

I never want to be a director again.

Or rather, I want to be the kind of director who can order auditions and then say, "Thank you. We'll call you." And who has actors who accept his verdict. Quietly and meekly.

Whereas I …

When I think of today …

AAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHH!

[Author's note: While this entry gives us a fascinating insight in Professor Flitwick's feelings at the time of the casting, it lacks a certain _je ne sais quoi_ in the facts department. Since the previous section contained a reference to Horace Slughorn, who had clearly worked in an advisory capacity, I wondered whether he might throw light on the matter. He said that, like everyone else, he didn't want to talk about it ever again, but he wished me every possible success with my research. "To change the subject entirely," he added, "have you read that interesting article about the positive effects of red wine on the memory?" I felt a bottle of Burgundy was a small price to pay. You'll find his recollections in the next installment.]


	2. Chapter 2

_**Horace Slughorn recalls**_  
"I thought Albus's project was doomed from the start. Telling children a Muggle fairy tale, or, in this case, showing one, does not suddenly turn them into broad-minded spirits tolerant of non-magical people. The ideas they were brought up with at home and the opinions of their peers are far more important. Albus would be preaching to the converted, and the huge amount of work involved in staging a pantomime would outweigh the faint chance that he might change the ideas of even one student .

"As to the benefits for the staff, working together on this so-called 'fun' project, well, it just shows. Shows what Albus was like, I mean. He really did think it great fun. But then, he only planned to involve himself with the costume making. He did a brilliant job with that, one must give him his due. And it was true that, in the aftermath of Voldemort's disappearance, he had to spend much time at the Ministry and would be a most unreliable factor for rehearsals.

"But the teachers already have a very heavy work-load. The Heads of House even more. They wouldn't think it a 'fun' project. They would think it a burden.

"But there's no point in trying to change Albus's mind, so I merely limited the damage. His first idea was to have me as director. Mind, you must _never_ tell Filius he wasn't the first choice.

"But Albus thought it would be good to have a Slytherin involved in a fun project. To which the two obvious objections were: no-one wanted to see Slytherins in any position of prominence just then, and it would harm my House considerably to be associated with the inevitable stress and fraught tempers.

"And I had no intention to devote my precious energy to the madness. I had quite enough work looking after my students, who weren't exactly having an easy time in those days.

"So I suggested Filius, and when Albus agreed, I quietly told him, Filius I mean, that he could always consult me.

"You see, I did think that two minor good things might come from this. I'm not one for the greater good. I've always left that to Albus. Far too risky for me. But a positive influence on one person's life – yes, a man of the world may have just that, if he's careful about it.

"Here's what I wanted. To begin with, there was young Severus Snape. Albus had hired him, for reasons very much of his own. Now, the boy had a God-given talent for potions. He didn't suffer fools gladly, though, and I've always wondered whether teaching this particular age-group was the best thing he could do with his gift.

"But the first year of his teaching career, he just walked around in an almost tangible cloud of misery. Everyone saw that it was something much deeper than the hardships of one's first teaching year, and everyone, I'm sorry to say, felt it served him right.

"Which is why I gently steered the discussion on which play to perform to the two Muggle stories that suited my purpose: _Cinderella_ and _The Sleeping Beauty_. Both these stories have the part of a Prince Charming. Severus was the only one on the staff young enough to pull it off. And he would hate it.

"I was convinced that at some point people would start to say things like, _you can say of Severus what you want,_ [and believe me, they said plenty] _but right now I feel almost sorry for him.'_

"Feeling almost sorry for someone is an excellent first step towards reconciliation.

"The other thing I wanted to achieve was the Poppy/Pomona situation. I have always felt those two were admirably suited. I was even quite sure Pomona was interested – was aware that she was interested, I mean. I don't think Poppy had ever considered the possibility that what she felt towards Pomona was more than just very warm friendship.

"And of course they had worked together for a long time. But somehow, even though they collaborated quite closely where medical plants were concerned, they had never crossed the bridge from close friendship to being lovers.

"I felt that in their case, Albus's notion that working together on a very different project, seeing each other in totally different ways and circumstances, might be very beneficial. Something might come of it, as long as they had parts that would put them together a lot. I felt it was worth trying; if nothing happened during this theatrical collaboration, then in all likelihood nothing would happen, period. But I was willing to make the effort. I always am.

"So where the casting was concerned, I made certain of one thing: Poppy and Pomona would play two of the fairy godmothers. They would have all their scenes together.

"But of course I considered Filius as well. Pomona is as bubbly and fun-loving as they make them. So is Poppy. Mind, it shows less. The students probably describe her as 'firm but kind', with 'firm' coming first. But in private, Poppy can be as jolly as Pomona. So I suggested Irma as the third godmother for Filius's sake. She's quite stern, Irma is, and she would keep those two in line.

"As it turned out, that was not the best idea I've ever had. It was not my most effective moment. I admit it freely.

"The casting meeting was hell for poor Filius, of course. No-one wanted to be in a play at all, but now that they _had_ to be in one, they all wanted the best part.

"I will give you the cast with the reactions of the various staff members. I think it will do much to clarify Filius's diary entry.

"Filius had cast Aurora Sinistra as The Sleeping Beauty. While Professor Sinistra herself felt that the part quite literally 'had her name on it', this was not Filius's motivation. His choice was based on his colleague's youth, her beauty, her lovely speaking voice, and his personal conviction that blond hair and blue eyes are not a need-to-have for fairy tale princesses.

"Charity, however, felt that Aurora should be played by someone who could act like a Muggle. She is, indeed, our resident Muggle expert, and I think Irma's remark that Charity could barely act as a witch should have remained unsaid.

"Irma thought the main part should be given to someone with sufficient experience to carry it off, and I agree with her that Poppy was out of order when she suggested that a librarian's job certainly gave one the experience of having unlimited time to sleep.

"And now that the occasion presents itself, I would like to go on record for stating that Filius did _not_ behave like a dictator who was too big for his boots, nor did he think he was Merlin Almighty.

"In the end Charity accepted her allotted part of The Queen, and I like to think that my pointing out how her regal bearing made her the perfect choice helped things along a bit.

"I was never anything but delighted to be cast as the King.

"Pomona was equally delighted simply to be in the play, and I know that her unfailing cheerfulness was a great comfort to Filius. Poppy and Irma were both slightly put out by the prospect of playing fairy godmothers, but Pomona's conviction that it was such a fun part, and that so much could be made of it, worked well enough, at least on Poppy.

"I was very pleased to see this, and already anticipated the success of my scheme. Alas, little did I know what was in store for us.

"When Filius and I discussed the meeting afterwards, he told me how much he admired Minerva. For from the very moment she heard she was to play Maleficent, the wicked fairy, she stayed completely and perfectly in character and simply _radiated_ malevolence.

"On the one hand, it is quite possible that Minerva, who is nothing if not methodical, used method in her acting as well and worked on her part from the moment she got it. On the other hand, we must not forget that Filius is an exceedingly kind man and one of the least judgmental people I've ever met. He has a good word about everyone.

"He's nobody's fool, though, and there was a twinkle in his eye when he told me that 'Minerva was so perfectly in character, she even _cackled_ in an absolutely malevolent manner.'

"I could see a hint of a mischievous smile as we both remembered when that brief, half-suppressed cackle had been heard.

"Severus's face when he heard he was to be Prince Charming was one for the books, indeed."

 _ **A Letter from Charity Burbage to her sister Faith**_  
 _Hogwarts, 30 October 1982_  
Dear Faith,

A lot has happened since my last letter! I have been cast to play the Queen. I must admit that I had hoped to get the part of Aurora – after all, I'm the one best suited to play a Muggle princess. But Filius insisted on having Aurora Sinistra. It's true that she has a lovely voice, but you'll agree that she simply doesn't look the part. Still, these things happen, and dear Horace, who is to play the King, says I'm marvellously suited. He even said I won't have to act, since my bearing is so regal already. He's trying to flatter me, of course, but he does have a point. Dear Mama did not make us walk with books on our heads for nothing.

The Christening Scene promises to be quite lovely, and Albus is working on a truly queenly dress for me. However, the rest of the play causes more problems, and I do not envy Filius. Irma keeps telling everyone that Aurora is far too meek, and that she needs to have _agency_. And Minerva agrees – she would! If it isn't one thing, it's the other. First that whole ridiculous _consent_ thing and now _agency_. Can't they see this play is set in a simpler world, when children had respect for their elders, and most of all for their parents? I don't think _respect and obey your parents_ is such a bad message for our children!

We were brought up on that message, and look at the success we've made of our lives. I as a teacher, and you taking care of dear Papa, which is the very thing a good daughter should want to do.

Which is why I must talk to you, dear sister, and I know you will forgive me for doing so and will understand that I only have your best interest at heart. I think you were wrong to write those articles yourself. I am very, _very_ surprised Xenophilius offered you the same amount he would have paid Papa. And I can only hope dear Papa will never find out. You would find yourself in far more serious difficulties than those you've had with Mr Gorringer.

And I was quite shocked to read the things you wrote about dear Papa and about me. I'll overlook what you said about me – you were clearly overwrought at the time. But to say that Papa takes _advantage_ of you and has _robbed_ you of your future! Surely he explained everything very clearly when Mama passed away?

I had nearly finished my studies, so to have me stay at home would have been a waste of the costs of my education. You had just finished Hogwarts, and no further costs had been made. It is only natural that you should look after Papa, and I can assure you that I often envy you – a real job in the real world is very hard work indeed, and you might not like it at all.

I just hope you will not come to regret your actions, dear Faith. And I was very sorry to hear that dear Papa's cold has returned – now that you have finished your so-called literary efforts, you might try to persuade him to see a Healer.

Your ever-loving sister,  
Charity

 _ **From Filius Flitwick's Diary**_  
 _15 November 1982_  
The play is beginning to take shape, thank Merlin. It's still an uphill struggle, though.

Irma and Minerva still don't like this version, but at least Minerva is resigned and acts her part quite convincingly. I had hoped that Irma would start to enjoy herself, too – Pomona does, and I thought Poppy would like her part. Well, Poppy does, but she and Irma are constantly at each other's throat. Irma wants a modern, feminist Aurora, and Poppy is quite pleased with the play as it is. I hope the situation will sort itself out.

I've spent most of this evening rehearsing with Aurora and Severus. Aurora does well enough, but Severus is difficult. It's not that he isn't making an effort. He clearly hates playing Prince Charming, but he tries with the same dogged determination he gives his teaching job.

However, the scene where Aurora and her Prince meet in the wood and fall in love was written with light, romantic banter. And Severus just doesn't get light and romantic. I've told him his bearing is wonderful – it is, very straight and manly, and when I told him to walk like a Prince, he came up with a little trick of billowing his robe that looks truly princely. Albus's costume for him includes a cloak, so that will be wonderful.

I had hoped the compliment would cheer him up and loosen him up. But alas. He billows brilliantly – the other day I even saw him do it in one of the corridors, and the students were suitably impressed by his appearance – but the light banter is just hopeless.

I'm considering cutting the dialogue and letting them do a little dance together. A waltz, say. That would be a nice interlude, they wouldn't have to say anything, and it'll show both of them to the best advantage.

Yes, next rehearsal I'll try a waltz. Let's hope for the best.

 _ **A Letter from Charity Burbage to her sister Faith**_  
 _Hogwarts, 21 November 1982_  
Dear Faith,

I am shocked beyond words! Yes, it was very unfortunate that there was a copy of _The Quibbler_ at Healer Pyke's office, and I agree that no-one could have foreseen that Papa would go there the very week your scribblings appeared and would actually pick up the dratted thing.

But to run away! Dear sister, how could you? What is to become of you?

You know very well that Papa would have forgiven you at some point. And when he threw the inkwell at you, he surely _intended_ to miss.

But for you to just run off! And look at you now! A room in Knockturn Alley – it just is not _seemly_ for a maiden lady of good family. If you stay there any longer, your reputation will be quite ruined. You simply _must_ return home, for what else could you do? Xenophilius's payment will not last for long.

I would come over myself – yes, I would venture into Knockturn Alley for the sake of my dear sister – but I cannot possibly be spared here. Filius needs my support to keep the more ignorant players in line.

You will remember I wrote about Irma and her notions of _agency_ , and my opinion that nothing good would come of it. Little did I know that I would have to face the dreadful consequences of such ideas in the life of my own, dearest sister! But that aside.

Irma and Poppy argue all the time. Poppy – that is Madam Pomfrey, the Healer, a truly womanly woman with excellent notions – wants to stick to the script, which includes the scene I mentioned before. Where the fairy godmothers send Aurora into the woods to prepare birthday surprises. A cake and a dress. And they are to create this without magic. Well, they can't, of course, but they just have to pretend. That's what acting is all about.

Irma doesn't pretend, and she wants the dress to be a dreadful, boring blue! Poppy makes a lot of effort, and she looks quite professional with the cake ingredients. It's all that medicine stirring she does. I told her she did wonderfully well, and Filius agrees. And she wants the dress to be in lovely shades of pink. It would make a dream dress, it looks good on Aurora Sinistra, and it goes well with the character's name Aurora – we didn't call her 'night shade', now, did we? _Blue_ indeed.

Filius does not object to pink, so I hope Poppy and I will win the day.

Meanwhile I trust you'll return home, and I will send my next letter there, for surely you will come to your senses?

Your loving sister  
Charity

 _ **From Filius Flitwick's Diary**_  
 _7 December 1982_  
I'm exhausted. The rehearsals get worse by the day. Poppy and Irma are barely on speaking terms. Poor Pomona just tries not to get caught in the cross fire. I feel sorry for her – she was so looking forward to being in the play, and she has been lovely and enthusiastic throughout. If only the same thing could be said of the others.

Severus still leaves much to be desired in the 'charming' department, but at least he's making an effort. And the waltz goes fairly well – everyone agrees it's a nice scene.

The performance will be next week, the evening before the children set off for the Christmas holidays. I can't wait until it's over.

 _ **A Letter from Charity Burbage to her sister Faith**_  
 _Hogwarts, 13 December 1982_  
Faith,

I write this in great haste – tomorrow is the performance of our play, and tonight we have the final dress rehearsal. I'm a bundle of nerves – so much depends on my part, and it is so vital that the children get a good impression of the beautiful story that is _The Sleeping Beauty_.

And at this worst possible moment, when I most need to concentrate, you, of whom I still think as 'my dear sister' despite your astonishing lack of consideration, you write to tell me that you have taken a _job_ at _The Leaky Cauldron_?

Faith, how can you? Work as a _barmaid_? What is to become of dear Papa? What is to become of your future?

Please consider! Please return home before our friends see you in that _common_ place.

In great haste,  
Despite everything, still,  
Your loving sister  
Charity. 


	3. Chapter 3

_**Horace Slughorn recalls**_  
"On the day of the performance tempers were fraught, to put it mildly. Some showed it more than others, of course.

"Minerva was calm, competent, and malevolent to her fingertips. Of course that was all quite in character, and Filius, clever fellow that he is, took the malevolence in the spirit in which it most certainly wasn't intended and complimented her on being such a good actress and such a support for him. It thawed her to some degree.

"Poppy and Irma glared and bickered, and Pomona avoided them as much as possible. On the one hand, I was very sorry to see this. As you know, I had hoped for different things. On the other hand, it made Pomona strike up a conversation with Severus. She had been among those who said they felt almost sorry for the lad, for where my little plan for Severus was concerned, the play had been a success. Filius, too, got a new appreciation for the boy. Severus billowed and waltzed assiduously, and while he clearly hated the job, he did it without challenging his director.

"During the following years, they became quite good friends, and I like to think it's the play that started that friendship.

"Filius himself was very nervous about the performance, and even more nervous about his actors. And he fretted because he had made some sort of arrangement with The Leaky Cauldron for a Christmas outing for his sister and her family, and he wasn't sure everything was quite settled.

"I told him to jot down the essentials and offered to take it up with Tom myself, as Filius could not possibly be spared from Hogwarts on that day. It could have waited another day, mind, but Filius was nervous enough as it was. And I always enjoy a little time away from Hogwarts. A quick snifter at the Leaky would be the very thing, I thought.

"Once I got there, who did I find behind the bar? None other than Faith Burbage. Her father, Peregrine Burbage, is a great friend of mine. A very famous scholar. He wrote a much-praised book on Thestrals – you may have read it. Oh, sorry, you're a Muggle – you probably didn't. But it's a seminal work, trust me.

"I thought Charity would enjoy having her sister among the audience. She's quite close to Faith, always writing letters. So I asked Tom to give her the afternoon off. He agreed at once, and I was pleased to see it. Because he agreed to give her the afternoon in a way that made it perfectly clear he would give her the pub, his heart, and a wedding-ring if she would only encourage him a little. And the way she looked at him …

"I was glad to see some happiness that day. And overjoyed for Faith. Nice girl, clever, too. In Ravenclaw, she was, and I always felt sorry for her. After her mother's death she didn't go to University – her father wouldn't have it. Wanted her to look after him. Now, I'm the first to admire Peregrine's books, but he's as demanding as they make them, and I thought Faith had had a very bleak life with him.

"So we Apparated back together, and I got Faith safely into Hogwarts. It would be a lovely surprise for Charity, I thought.

"And then the final hour was there, and we were all lined up for the Christening scene. Albus had outdone himself with the costumes, and everything looked as festive as could be, with the King and Queen as the resplendent centre of the scene. As we waited for the play to begin properly, with a herald announcing the arrival of the Good Godmothers (and one would have thought that Argus Filch, after a lifetime in service, would have managed the part just that tiny bit better) I told Charity her sister was in the first row.

"To my surprise, Charity turned pale, then puce. And then she had to deliver her lines.

"She started well enough, expressing regret at not inviting Maleficent. That was all she had to say according to the script. But then she went on saying she knew how important it was to have manners and a touch of class. Well, that still fitted her part more or less, although I could see Filius making frantic gestures in the wings.

"But then she went on to say that one had to remember one's social standing and one's family, and one couldn't just go and live with an inn-keeper. "It's debauchery!" Charity practically screeched by now, and when she added that "it will kill poor Papa," I fully realised that my little act of kindness had gone utterly awry.

"I silently damned and blasted Hogwarts pantomimes, Albus for thinking of it, and the gods in general for screwing things up so royally.

"Our fellow-actors were flabbergasted, as you can readily imagine. Minerva saved the day, as she invariably does, by addressing me (the King) and pointing out that the three fairy godmothers had clearly put a spell on my Queen that had addled her brain. But that didn't alter the fact that she, Maleficent, had not been invited and …

"From there on, she continued with the script. All was temporarily well. Charity had no further lines, other than an exclamation of shock when Malificent cursed the infant, and she managed that with great conviction. The play continued.

"Severus pulled off his waltz in a thoroughly respectable manner, and Aurora looked absolutely lovely. The audience applauded the scene, which was very fine indeed, and I felt we were on the home stretch.

"Alas. I had counted without the fairy godmothers. Pomona, like the good sport she is, did everything in her power to make their big scene go well. Poppy, I must give her her due, did an admirable job with the 'bake a cake without magic' thing. It looked funny without being over the top, and the children loved it.

"Irma, meanwhile, put Pomona on a chair to be the model for the dress. This had been rehearsed endlessly, and she did as well as Poppy in the acting department. The children loved this, too, and they screamed with laughter at the funny faces Pomona made whenever she could peer from under the dress fabric.

"The thing was a success, and I was so pleased for Filius.

"Then the fairy godmothers realised that not using magic wouldn't work, and they drew their wands. Poppy's magical cake was beyond beautiful, and got a well-deserved applause. Irma's dress looked lovely, too, but as a final touch she Charmed the fabric blue.

"When Poppy noticed this, she immediately Charmed it pink. And Irma Charmed it blue, and Poppy Charmed it pink, and they were yelling "Blue!" and "Pink!" at each other.

"Finally Pomona stepped in to calm them both down – and both Poppy and Irma spoke their spell at the same time. Pomona was right in the middle of the two shafts of sparks, and she was pink and blue all over.

"Filius did the only thing he could: he dropped the curtain. On stage it was mayhem. Irma and Poppy ranted at each other, Pomona was almost in tears at the thought that the play would be spoiled, and Filius was beside himself with anger.

"I stepped in. I had to. I told Filius to clean up Pomona. I told Poppy and Irma to behave, for Filius's sake if nothing else. I might not have succeeded there, but Albus joined our group, and his authority carried the day.

"The next scene should have been the one in which the three godmothers tell Aurora she's a princess, and she must return to the castle and marry the prince to whom she's betrothed. But Pomona needed quite a bit of cleaning up. Always very tricky, getting in the middle of conflicting spells. It would take a little time, even for a talented wizard like Filius.

"So Albus and I decided to jump in. Albus would play the other king – that is, the father of Aurora's fiancé. We would talk about how we had arranged this marriage, and what clever fellows we were. It would give Filius the time he needed.

"We ad-libbed freely about the engagement and upcoming nuptials. I must admit we filled our goblets frequently, toasting each other, and we got fairly cheerful and perhaps a bit over the top. But the children thought it the funniest thing ever, and that was all that mattered.

"Then the three godmothers did their scene with Aurora, and once again I thought we were home and dry.

"It was not to be.

"The children had become quite raucous, and when Severus leaned over to kiss the princess – I had _told_ Filius to make sure the audience got a back view of Severus, since the poor chap, with that nose of his, and that lank hair, did nothing to enhance the picture – one imp on the first row shouted, "Oh, the poor princess!"

"It was the straw that broke the camel's back. Severus drew to his full height and _glared_ at the child. It was such a glare that I myself felt shivers running down my back, and three ickle first-years started to cry.

"At that point, Filius did the only thing left to him. He started the waltz music, signalled to Aurora and the Prince to waltz off scene – and that ended the play.

"Even Albus, with all his thespian enthusiasm, felt it was an experience never to be repeated.

"There are two interesting little sequels to this story, however.

"About a year later, Pomona suffered from a tummy-ache. She didn't want to make a fuss, since it was once again around Christmas and everyone was busy with end-of-term marking and the Heads of the Houses had to get their students off for the holidays.

"It turned out to be an appendicitis, with complications, too. Pomona had really been uncommonly brave, not to say foolhardy, to carry on for as long as she did.

"She ended up in the sick ward, and because of those complications she had to stay there for four solid weeks. And obviously she spent a lot of time with Poppy, who felt very sorry for Pomona, missing all the Christmas cheer and, more important for a teacher, the Christmas holidays. She, Poppy, I mean, was a true ministering angel.

"They have been very happy together ever since.

"As for Tom, he married Faith Burbage and became as cheerful a publican as one could hope to find. And the food in The Leaky Cauldron improved beyond belief."


End file.
